


Clover

by Oddmorals (RoosterTeethFanfics)



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Aleks has claustrophobia, Angst, Brett becomes a main character, Drug Addiction, Drugs, Drunken Shenanigans, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heroin, Hurt/Comfort, James is oblivious, Jealousy, Los Angeles, M/M, Minimal blood, Minor Injuries, Multiple chapters, Mutual Pining, Needles, Not Canon Compliant, NovaHD - Freeform, Or at least he hates crowds, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Party, Recovery, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Warehouse era, at least not totally compliant, there are just a few things changed for convenience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-21 12:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17643218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoosterTeethFanfics/pseuds/Oddmorals
Summary: “This feeling…” Aleks slurred, staring at the bag in his hand, rolling the tubes around with his thumb, “It’ll go away? Are you sure?”"It did for me."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title may be changed in future; this is a work in process. If you're interested, make sure to bookmark it so you don't miss updates! 
> 
> I am a college student, so be patient. I do have an outline for the story though, so it shouldn't take long.  
> Take into account that I also proofread it.
> 
> Here's the official playlist of this fanfiction! If you have any other good song ideas, leave a comment :)  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL4p_WoqBvMhYWar87CeZh9O2ZLUkOlcuH

                Aleks wondered if he had gotten himself in too deep this time. He had always felt like an unstoppable force; someone or something that couldn’t be beaten- however, this claustrophobia was definitely beating the shit out of him. He breathed in shakily, and he could taste the smoke that coated the air on his tongue. The remnants of nicotine tingled in his throat, and the cloud around him irritated his eyes. Through the blurriness of his watering eyes, he could see the crowd around him. A meaningless gaggle of a few college students and young adults huddled in groups, smoking cigarettes and pot. Another figure appeared in his peripherals.         

 

                “Do you want any of this?” A slosh of a bottle, a mischievous laugh. “I swiped it from their cabinets. I don’t think they’ll notice if we make good use of it.” James popped the cap, and took a swig of the clear alcohol, grimacing at the taste. “It’s gin, I think.”

  

                “No, I think I’d rather leave, honestly.” James knew him well enough to know why.

  

                “Can I get like, another hour? I don’t want to go home yet.” His fingers gripped the neck of the bottle, leaving his fingerprints on the glass. Aleks knew that half-full bottle had to be empty before they made the twenty-minute walk back. There was no way of getting James to waste this opportunity.

 

                “I’ll be outside if you need me, dude.” Aleks nodded to him, compliant, wearing an averted gaze. James watched him as he walked away, his grip almost loosening around the labelless glass. He fumbled to reinstate his grasp with his sweaty palms.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

                “ **I know you guys are at some stupid party, but remember you have work tomorrow** ” 

 

                A text from Brett, the only reliable adult Aleks knew. It was common for him to receive texts like this every night they went out, him and James. Maybe Brett knew how messy LA parties could get; he was always concerned someone would recognize them there, but so far, it’s yet to happen. Usually people were too drunk to care about them, nonetheless know who they are.

 

                It took him a moment upon sitting down on the porch outside to notice how numb his fingers were, and how strong his heart was clambering in his chest. It was forty-something degrees and of course Aleks forgot his thicker jacket. His breathing was finally beginning to even out as the clear, cold air filtered out the collection of smoke in his lungs. He shoved his hands into the furthest reaches of his hoodie pockets, reveling in the slight change in temperature. However, his heart still beat harshly behind his ribs. He could feel his face flush.

  
  
                “How are you tonight?” The confident voice made him jump. A stranger plops down on the squeaky wooden ledge of the porch, an arm’s length away. “You look nervous.”

 

                His voice seizes in his throat as he sizes him up. He looks like he’s in his mid-thirties; he has a yellow smile and a missing tooth. His hair is dark and disheveled, but light gray hairs poke through near his widow’s peak. His skin looks pale and sickly, with deep bags under his eyes. Aleks shifts around anxiously.

 

                “Look, I really don’t want any drugs. I’m don’t use that stuff.”

 

                “You think that’s why I’m here?” There’s an airy chuckle behind his voice.

 

                “I know that’s why you’re here.”

 

                The man digs through the bag resting on his shoulder for a moment, and pulls out a Ziploc bag. The plastic is cloudy and a little dirty, but he could still make out the shape of tubed syringes and another container he couldn’t recognize. Aleks was already about to stand up before the man could unwrinkle the bag.

  

                “Just hear me out- “

 

                “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Aleks rose to his feet.

  

                “I’m just a guy trying to make a living.”

 

                Aleks paused for a moment, staring down at the man. He looked like he had done this a thousand times before, like he had given the same spiel time after time, confident and unwavering. Aleks can only hope it’s never worked. Aleks turned around, feeling the cold beginning to seep into his bones.

 

                “I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

 

                “Of course you will.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

                Within the next thirty minutes, Aleks was wasted. James was probably right in thinking it was gin. There was a certain warmth in his gut that said it was gin; it felt familiar. The party had wound down, a lot of people had left in couples or groups to continue the celebration elsewhere.

 

                A rundown karaoke machine sat in a corner- it had scratches all over the table it sat on and looked like it came from the eighties. The last group of people to use it left the mics on top of the old television connected to it. He felt an elbow nudge him in the ribs.

  

                “Wanna have a go at it?” James’ smile stretched across his cheeks. He was glowing with drunkenness.

  

                Aleks laughed openly. “Absolutely. What song?”

  

                “Your pick.”

 

                “I picked last time, though.”

  

                James slung his arm around his shoulder. His skin was warm and he smelled like a mixture of lemongrass and mixed drinks. “I trust your choice, Aleks. Pick the usual.”

  

                A warmth spread across Aleks, and he almost felt nauseous. It was an indescribable feeling, he’s only felt it a couple times, and almost always with James. He didn’t really understand it. Was this unique to him?

 

                “If you insist.” He smiled.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

                It was three in the morning as Aleks sat against a wall next to the master bedroom. His knees curled into his chest, he could feel his pounding pulse against his skin. What was bothering him so badly? The party was basically over by now; a few people were left behind after they all scattered, mainly people too drunk to function. So why was Aleks here listening to his best friend leave him alone at a party to have sex with a stranger in another stranger’s bedroom? He pressed the heel of his palm into his forehead, and let his fingers comb through his hair.

 

                They weren’t very loud, to be fair. But just knowing what was happening made him want to puke. What was wrong with him? Any real friend would cheer him on, but it all felt so… wrong. Maybe it was because he was so close to it. But where else would he go? He would be fucked if he walked home alone, and he didn’t want to hang out with the few remaining people occupying the living room. So he sat in a corner, fifteen feet away from the thing that gave him such conflicting emotions.

 

                His cheek felt strangely warm. His fingertips wiped at his puffy eyes. Aleks was crying. 

 

                With a huff, he managed to get off the carpeted floor with minimal struggle. He’d just have to man up and walk home alone. He wasn’t going to wait for James any longer.

  

                He wiped at his eyes the best he could, trying to clear the redness, as he made his way to the door. At some point, he tumbled over and smashed his knee onto the linoleum tiles in the front passageway. He winced, sucking a quick gulp of air down. He limped the rest of the way to the door, and was unsurprised at how cold the metal door knob was. It must have dropped a few degrees lower throughout the night. Swallowing his pride, he stepped outside. 

 

                “I knew you’d be back.” 

 

                He had forgotten about him after all the drinks, but the memories flooded back. He shut the door behind him. It seems he hadn’t moved since Aleks left.

 

                “What happened? Looks like you’ve been crying. You may not believe me now, but these will help take care of that feeling for a while.” The decrepit man spoke. 

 

                “Feeling?” Aleks slurred. He didn’t even realize how drunk he was until he spoke.

  

                “Whatever’s bothering you. That feeling.”

  

                “I don’t know what’s bothering me.” He tried his best this time to enunciate, but to no avail. The stranger took notice of this.

               

                “Someone left you alone, huh. A girl probably?” The man turned for a moment, and dug out the Ziploc bag from earlier with ease, still as wrinkled as ever. Aleks noticed now that there seemed to be a pill bottle of some sort in there. “You don’t even have to pay me this time. I’ll give you this for free. Consider it a sample.”

  

                Aleks slowly shook his head while pressing his lips together, deep in thought. “What… What is it?” Not that it mattered. He was disgusted by the very thought of it.

  

                “It’s the thing that will solve all your problems.”

 

                “I highly doubt that.”

 

                “At the very least, it will get rid of them. That icky feeling you’re getting? Gone. It’s that simple.”

 

                His stomach was starting to twist knots. His shaky hands reached out for the bag, and immediate guilt rushed through him from just touching the worn plastic. He yanked it back. The man stared back at him- he was impossible to surprise. He must’ve seen it all by now.

  

                “It won’t bite.”

 

                “Will it… kill me?”

 

                “Only if you misuse it. As long as you only use one dose at a time, you’ll be fine. One of my customers has been using this shit for years and is doing A-Okay.”

 

                He cautiously took the bag before anyone could see- not that there was anyone around. The only sound was the barrage of leaves falling down, covering the roads, and Aleks' heart beating away.

  

                “This feeling…” Aleks slurred, staring at the bag in his hand, rolling the tubes around with his thumb, “It’ll go away? Are you sure?”

  

                “It did for me.” The man had a hollow smile, like a toothy skeleton. His words felt empty and sorrowful, like a past memory was dredged up out of nowhere. “My name is Frankie, but my friends call me Legs. Here’s my number. If you ever need another hook up, text me.”

  

                The words embedded into his subconscious, but Aleks wasn’t truly listening. He was still rolling the tubes between his fingers, looking at the liquid inside. It was golden; it looked clear, like vegetable oil. The pill bottle was seemingly filled with a fine, white powder. He looked up and realized the man was still staring at him, waiting for Aleks to take the slip of paper. He did, slipped it into the Ziploc bag, and zipped it closed again.

  

                “Hey Aleks, I'm really sorry I left you.” The door behind Aleks closed. He panicked, and shoved the drugs into his pocket. James didn’t seem to notice, instead trying to smooth back the frizzy hairs that were loosened from his bun. He never explained where exactly he went; maybe he couldn’t think up a good excuse, and left it up to interpretation.

  

“Yeah, um,” Aleks swallowed. He took in how pink James’ face still was. That sick feeling returned. He gripped onto the bag for reassurance. “Ready to go?” 

 

                “Yeah.” James was already down the porch steps while Aleks stared at him in awe. Realizing he had started walking alone, he looked up at Aleks, still frozen in place. “Are you?” 

 

                Wordlessly, Aleks made his way down the steps, holding on to the guardrail. It was chipping paint, and he could feel the white chips stick to his sweaty hands.

  

                “Denny’s?” James smiled at him. A rumble went through Aleks’ stomach. The drugs in his pocket were erased from his short-term memory.

  

                “Denny’s.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aleks delves into the illegal and life-threatening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back friends. I hope this is as clean as possible; I did a couple rounds of proofreading and tweaking. Enjoy!

This is how it’s usually gone for years: James and Aleks get smashed, and would head to Aleks’ place, which is usually in a closer range to whatever party they’re at than James’ apartment downtown, and they’ll crash for the night. It had gotten to the point where a gym bag of spare clothes was kept in Aleks’ closet; James would leave his dirty clothes there, Aleks would wash it, and put it in the bag for the next time James was over. It was a perfect system, and he was almost proud of it.

 

However, for some reason, this time he didn’t want James to come over. It confused him to no end. James was his best friend, his brother. He had known this guy for almost six or seven years, and he had stuck by him even after The Creature’s collapsed. James was the best person he knew. So why the hell was he so cautious?

 

He pinned the feeling down somewhere else deep in his mind to review later. The accumulated alcohol was beginning to get to him, and with a stomach full of pancakes, he just wanted to get to bed. Not that he would wake up in time for work; it was already almost five in the morning. Surely, some people were already on their daily grind before he even made it home. He had forgotten about Brett’s text at this point.

 

Mishka’s fluffy tail thumped against the couch near the entrance- James was home, and he has always been one of her favorite people. She was always content to see Aleks home as well, though.

 

“Hi puppy!” James cooed at her. His hands were on her cheeks before Aleks could even close the door, and he ruffled the fur on her head. She panted appreciatively, letting her tongue fall out onto his hand, leaving bubbled saliva behind. Not that he cared.

 

“You can take my bed, I’ll take the couch. Let me go grab some blankets.” Aleks murmured, loud enough for James to hear as he shut and locked the door behind him. His metabolism had already burned off a lot of the alcohol, and he was just barely beginning to sober up, but his slur was still apparent in his speech.

 

“Are you sure?” Genuine concern laced into James voice. “You did that last time. Isn’t that thing bad on your back?”

 

“It’s probably worse on yours. Go take a shower, keep the door unlocked though in case you fall again.”

 

James nodded, drunkenly complying. If he was sober, he would have probably insisted on taking the couch anyways. It wasn’t long before Aleks could hear the familiar- almost nostalgic- sound of water rushing through the pipes in his thin walls. Opening the closet, he found the stockpile of blankets that he’d been collecting for years, a lot of them from hotels around the country. He bent forward to get one, when he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. For a second, he sensed it was a sign he was going to puke, but no nausea hit him. He reached into his hoodie pocket and felt the offending object. His heart froze, and his face went pale. Needles. Syringes. What were these?

 

Gently, he pulled the bag out. The memories flooded back to him- _the druggie, the dirty bag, and James_ … James left him. James abandoned him. James left him to _rot_ alone at an LA party. He tried to push back that idea, but it had already become front and center in his mind. James had hurt him. His cheeks were warm again, and he didn’t have to touch his face to know he was crying this time; his vision was cloudy as he stared at the bag in his quaking hands. Little droplets began to fall on the plastic, washing away whatever substance was on it and leaving behind clearness. The golden drug stood out to him.

 

He dropped it on the wooden floor with a crunch. Panic struck his heart, and he couldn’t believe he even considered it for a moment, but the voice in the back of his mind quickly assured him that he wasn’t insane. Aleks was feeling a shitty emotion- and he wanted it _gone_. It was natural, it was normal, he couldn’t be in the wrong for this. His self-awareness was waning, and the remaining alcohol in his blood was taking over. He reached for the bag.

 

It felt thin and worn. He unzipped it, feeling his pulse hammering in his throat. James was still showering. He probably had ten more minutes, at least. A shiver crawled up his back just imagining where this came from and how it inevitably ended up in his hands. Aleks was a believer of fate; it’s what led him to meet James after all. So, was this fate? He never could have imagined that fate would lead him here.

 

Heart racing, he held a filled syringe in his hand. Dizziness from pure fear and adrenaline clogged his mind already. He rolled up his hoodie sleeve, inspecting his arm. Hour upon hours of work went into the tattoos on his arm- he could still remember the adrenaline he got after each one. He briefly wondered if it would give him the same rush as before.

 

The color of his veins was blurry under the colored ink and pale skin, but he could see the bulge of skin where one of his prominent ones made itself noticeable. He remembers getting vaccines as a kid- the nurse would always smack the vein for some reason. Maybe to make it more visible? He slapped his arm until it stung with redness. His breathing had become raspy and thin; dots of sweat lined his forehead and stuck to his skin.

 

He removed the belt from his waist. He had never done drugs before, so he had to figure out how to tighten it around his bicep on his own. He ended up holding the buckle in his teeth and tugging on it until he could feel the beat of his heart in his wrist. The cap of the syringe came off easily, and he inspected the tiny piece of metal carefully: It was a fairly small needle, and it looked clean with no traces of blood or dirt. Just the sight of it made him want to vomit. His stomach twisted and twisted in upon itself. The sound of rushing water stopped abruptly- James turned off the shower.

 

It was now or never. Fuck the consequences. Fuck these feelings, fuck everything that happened tonight. Fuck James, and fuck the emotions that came with him. As delicately as a man with shaking hands could, he pierced his vein with the needle. He pulled the plunger back to check if he hit the vein. A layer of red emerged in the syringe.

 

He was panicking, openly sobbing as he put his thumb on the plunger. No going back now; whatever was on the needle was already inside him. Infecting him. Slowly, he pushed the plunger down, feeling an intense burning in his capillaries. How much did that guy say to use? A voice reverberated through his head: ‘ _one dose_.’ He wasn’t quite sure what a dose meant. He stopped at the first line on the syringe. He prayed it wasn’t too much.

 

He withdrew the needle from his skin, wiping the tip of it on his hoodie sleeve, and put the cap back on. He waited, panting for air as his anxiety reached a peak. Nothing happened.

 

Did the guy… give him a fake? Did he do it wrong?

 

The metal of the buckle slipped out of his teeth, falling to the floor with a resounding _clunk_ , and a waterfall of euphoria struck every nerve in his body. No longer did he feel the burn in his veins, but instead a satisfying tingle. A tickle. The sound of his rushing blood was loud in his ears. Is this what his heart sounded like?

 

“Do you have any towels? Seems like you’re out in here.” A distant voice asked.

 

Who was that? Was that him? Aleks checked, but surely enough, his mouth was closed. A laugh bubbled out of his throat. He really thought he said something! His whole body was vibrating with joy. He shoved the syringe into the bag with abandon, and hid the entire thing in his underwear drawer. It wouldn’t be wise to let anyone know about this. He mentally promised himself to dispose of it in the morning, and again, he outwardly laughed. Why was this all so funny?

 

“Hello…?” The voice said again. It sounded more annoyed than worried.

 

Aleks peeked his head around the corner, looking at James. _James_. Wasn’t he mad at him? He couldn’t really remember why. James was so nice, he was his best friend. James was his favorite person. Just looking at him made his heart thump, strangely enough. He felt the warmth fill his cheeks as he contemplated about what he looked like behind that door- he could only see his head, covered in those thick, dark curls he quietly and privately admired. He let his mind wander, until he noticed James was giving him a strange look.

 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Are you going to fuck with me? We’re not even recording, it would be wasted material, dude.” James sighed, pushing a dripping strand of hair back behind his ear. “Just do me a favor and get me a towel.

 

A towel. Where were those? He searched through the closet with the blankets, making sure to throw one on the bed before he forgot- the fabric was so soft suddenly, for a hotel blanket. Last time he remembered, they were just pieces of fabric. He found a towel, and handed it to James out in the connecting hallway.

 

James took no time to tuck the fabric in around his hips. He met eyes with Aleks. “Are you okay, dude? Are you crying?” His hand reached out, and touched Aleks cheek. James skin was hot, almost burning, and he felt his thumb swiftly wipe the fresh tear away. He didn’t even know he had been crying- he certainly wasn’t upset. He smirked at James; he had the deepest, darkest shade of brown in his eyes. It was enchanting to him. James withdrew his hand, confused.

 

The trance he was under seemed to break momentarily. He almost forgot what it meant to act natural. He shook his head at no one in particular, enjoying the feeling of the blood sloshing inside of him. “I’m okay.” His voice sounded broken and strangled, to his own surprise.

 

“No, you’re not.” James huffed. What came out wasn’t a huff of anger, but more or less a huff of worry. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed, I’ll be right out.”

 

The door shut in Aleks’ face. It wasn’t loud at all, but it startled him. Where did James go? He was behind that door. Was James mad? He pushed the thought out of his mind. He didn’t want to think about stuff like that.

 

His lungs expanded with a fresh breath of air. He realized he liked the way it felt- he liked to breathe. He did it a few times, while shifting his weight between his two feet. Why was he so heavy all of a sudden? He felt so sluggish and drowsy. Maybe he really was as fatigued as he thought he would be, but Aleks couldn’t tell- everything was just felt too pleasant to notice.

 

He looked down at the floor, experiencing the gravity pull the blood in his head forwards. He could see how violet his knee was, the sickening shades of the new bruise already forming past the rips in his jeans. Honestly, he didn’t remember what happened. All he knew was he didn’t feel any of the pain from it, and he thought that was pretty neat.

 

He wandered back and forth through his house, when suddenly, everything was warm, almost hot. Sweat was just beginning to cling to the small of his back. He shed his hoodie without further deliberation, slinging it across the room, hitting a vase full of fake flowers- it fell to the floor and shattered, and that fascinated him. He picked up a piece out of curiosity, and ran his fingertip over it, watching as he bled from the tiny cut. A _tiny, insignificant_ cut; it didn’t even hurt.

 

“Aleks!” Someone yelled. It took him a moment to recognize it. Why was that voice so pretty?

 

A pair of strong hands gripped his wrist, drawing the hand holding the glass away from Aleks. James eyes darted back and forth between Aleks’ two hands.

 

“What were you doing!?” James formed a fist around Aleks’ finger frantically. If Aleks wasn’t high, he would have winced from the pressure.

 

“What was I doing?” He wore a blank and confused stare. James’ brows furrowed in concern.

 

“You’re fucking bleeding pretty bad.  Let me get the med kit. Don’t move.” James seized the glass from Aleks, grabbed his friend’s spare hand, and wrapped it around his finger, putting pressure on it so he knew how hard to press- not that Aleks understood that. He ran off in the direction of the bathroom.

 

Why did he do that? James sure was warm. He left some of his residual warmth with Aleks, it seemed. Aleks loosened his grip on his finger and looked at it. Aleks could almost see his veins within the depths of the wound; they were thin and cerulean in hue. Blood was seeping down into the creases of his palm. He didn’t feel anything. He never realized how dark his blood was.

 

Within the mind of Aleks, James was back within a second- though in reality he had to do a thorough search of Aleks’ house to find the First Aid kit. Aleks had probably been standing there for a minute just staring into his open wound. He was happy to feel James’ skin again, he almost omitted the softness of it from his memory.

 

He liked how tight James wrapped the gauze around his wound, and how the alcohol wipes tingled. He knew they were supposed to burn though; part of him knew something was wrong- the lack of pain, the sensations he was feeling. He shoved that intelligent concern back as far as he could.

 

An eternity passed before James was done. Lips parted, Aleks watched how his exhales were quick and light, like he didn’t have the time to breathe. He saw James look back at him in distress, praying, searching for an answer.

 

“Why did you hurt yourself? Are you _stupid_?” The words, despite the connotation, did not feel harsh. Aleks, even in his drug induced mental state, could tell James’ words came from a place of genuine care and unease. Aleks rolled the notion around in his mind. After a moment, he came to a realization. It seemed that James had finally sobered up- either from the shower or Aleks' injury- and would remember this. Aleks could feel the seed of guilt root itself into the layers of euphoria that buried it.

 

Aleks wrapped his arms around James and just squeezed tight enough to compensate for his excessive shaking. James had an astounding output of heat, and despite burning up a few minutes ago, next to James, he felt so cold in comparison. He hears James’ complaints, and the sound of it melts his heart. Aleks smells the lingering hints of lemongrass, and he thinks it’s the greatest thing he’s ever smelled.

 

It took every bone in James’ body to not admit how guilty he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading my dumb story. I'm so appreciative.  
> Support me by leaving a kudos or a comment, I love both! It only takes a minute to leave feedback!  
> You can always follow me on twitter @TrulyOddmorals too


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aleks has a rough work day; Brett and James go out for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this took a few days, college classes can get pretty hectic sometimes. I'm glad to bring you four days of lazy work, however.

“It’s already noon,” The light from his windows bloomed as his curtains shifted with the movement of the door. “Wake the fuck up.” As soon as the door had opened, it had already closed behind the intruder.

Aleks rolled his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the skin was dry and his saliva tasted foul. He sat up, and his aching muscles started screaming before he could even stretch his arms over his head, feeling his shirt riding up and wrinkling under his ribs and letting it shift down on its own to his hips. His joints gave a satisfying crack.

Then a series of unfortunate events happened in sequence: shifting his weight forward was his first mistake. Nausea crippled him instantly at the sudden movement of him swinging his feet off of the mattress and onto the cold wood floor below. His second one was not immediately leaning over his bedside trash can (it was usually used for throwing away cans of Pepsi Max, the trash can was full of them and it was about time to empty it anyways). Aleks wasn’t entirely sure, but his third mistake was probably vomiting onto himself. It wasn’t something he enjoyed, but it was nice to get the ill feeling out of his body. His bile dribbled out onto his pajamas- _when did he change?_ -and the floor.

Had James changed his clothes last night? A blush rose to his cheeks. Certainly nothing weird happened, right? He shook his head at his own thought, despite no one being there to see it. James was one of the straightest guys he knew. And he was too. Right? Thinking back on it, Aleks had never really had any serious relationships before. He had nothing to base any of this off of.

A knock arose from his doorway, shaking the frame slightly, and startling him. “Brett wants us at work in twenty minutes, so hurry up! I made breakfast, you can just eat it on the way.” His ears rung and his head burned from the sheer volume of it, but he held his tongue.

Wow. James made breakfast? Aleks almost always had to make it, since he habitually woke up before him. How late was it? He picked up his phone off his nightstand, which was mysteriously plugged in to the charger. The light hurt his eyes, but he could make out the time as 12:44 in the afternoon. They were more than a few hours late. He scrambled off the bed, being careful not to step into his bodily fluids, but his legs quickly gave out beneath him. The cotton fabric of his pajamas soaked in the warm acid. He almost retched just purely from the smell. He made a mental note to clean it when he got home.

He held his hands firmly on the mattress, and used the majority of his strength just to pull himself up. He sat back on the edge of his bed so he had some sort of support as he took off his garments. His head was positively throbbing, but he tried his best to remember exactly what happened last night.

A thought interrupting sting had begun to spread through his finger, however, and upon further inspection, Aleks found the foreign source of discomfort. A wrap of gauze, probably wrapped a little too tightly, peeling at where the fabric began and ended, and covered half of his left pointer finger; a brownish-red tint coated the inside edge of the fabric and leaked through and dried near the pad of his finger. He peeled off the cotton haphazardly. The wound looked scabby, but not infected, to his relief. When had he done that? It seemed like something he would’ve remembered.

Had he drunk too much? It was well known to his close confidants that he was no light-weight, so that made no sense. He scrapped that thought. Visions of a labelless bottle and leaves covering a black and never-ending road struck him. The party. _That house_. Some guy gave him something, and then they went out to Denny’s- why did he remember being mad at James? The memory wouldn’t come to him. But he remembered receiving something strange, maybe from an even stranger man. He couldn’t remember his name, though.

This time, he took a moment to stand up from his bed, arms shaking as he put his body weight on them. He felt another source of pain, to his dismay. He reluctantly checked the dull pinch he felt in the crook of his left elbow, but all he saw was a small pink dot obscured under the vivid ink of his tattoos. Had he…? _No_. No way did he actually _fucking do it_.

He shuffled over to his dresser swiftly, yanking open his underwear drawer. He grabbed handfuls and fistfuls of boxers and underwear and threw them to the ground with no rhyme or reason. His hands shook violently and his skull pulsed painfully in waves, until it was a continual pounding, until his lungs burned.

His twitchy fingers hesitated at first. Maybe if he didn’t touch it, it wasn’t real- maybe he could just forget about all of this, and pretend it never happened, but in his underwear drawer sat something that was unignorable. A dirty bag full of mystery drugs; a syringe only ¾ full, while the others were still untouched.

He felt a drop of something- _something warm_ \- make its way slowly down his forehead and the bridge of his nose. He was sweating profusely. He shoved all the underwear back in the drawer and slammed it close, disappointed in himself when he realized he didn’t want to leave it just yet. Aleks wanted to do it again.

Was this shit addictive? He still had no clue what it was: cocaine, meth, morphine, heroine, and he could name more. He had no idea what he put into his body last night. Either way, it was undeniable that he yearned for it once again- he admitted, in the deepest corner of his heart, that he kind of enjoyed last night, at least what he could remember of it. The smell of eggs and sausage interrupted that ideology, thankfully. For now, he’d try and convince himself he didn’t want it. _Like that would ever work_.

Through his shaky and weak state, he tugged on some relatively clean clothes, even though it made his skin itch, and pulled his shoelaces as tightly as he could to give him a distraction from the neediness suffocating the rest of the pointless thoughts in his brain. He could already feel the canvas making indentations into his skin. He pulled them tighter.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The silence in the car was driving both of them senseless; Aleks was generally pretty talkative. Now he resembled snow almost, looking sick, pale, and languid as he rolled his head back onto the leather cushion behind him. James subconsciously chewed the inside of his cheek, picking at the wound he was just beginning to create in his mouth.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” James said gently. Sometimes his co-worker had a short fuse, and sometimes James was genuinely scared of it. It was never a good idea to push Aleks for information.

“I’m fine.” Aleks denied, but there was a hint of animosity in his voice that James picked up on. He shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Did I do something last night? Are you mad about what happened?”

“What happened?”

A lump had made itself apparent in James’ throat. _He really didn’t remember_? Aleks rarely ever blacked out completely. Guilt unsealed the wound in his chest. This was his chance to let Aleks forget, but what kind of friend would he be if he wasn’t honest? Better yet, what kind of friend would be if he _brought it up_?

“Nothing much.”

Aleks looked back out into the nothingness of the windows.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The warehouse’s walls loomed over Aleks; the room felt pressurized and hot, and then freezing cold a moment later. His body shook with need, not a mental one, but a physical one. His desktop of his computer screen was opened up to a list of video ideas: playing Taser tag, having Ein and Mishka host an episode, so on and so forth. None of them were good ideas in any capacity, but Aleks wouldn’t know that. He wasn’t reading it. It was just a backup in case anyone thought he wasn’t working.

“Hey, me and Brett are going to go out to Applebee’s. I’m paying.” James approached. His bun was messy and strands of curls fell loose, balancing themselves on his shoulder and the back of his neck. His face was still flushed from whatever shenanigan they had just finished- now that he thought about it, he had heard some shouting earlier. He didn’t care to join, it gave him a pounding headache just listening to it.

“I can’t, I have to do some work.”

James leaned over Aleks’ shoulder, placing a hand on the back of his office chair. “You’re just looking at the list? You’re not that busy. You must be starving though, you barely ate breakfast, dude.” Aleks’ stomach was nausea and sore from his morning puke session, and even now, he had no appetite to speak of. “You can pick whatever you want, you don’t even have to get a kiddie meal.”

“Can you please just leave me alone.” It almost sounded like he was pleading for mercy. James’ face twisted up with concern.

A firm hand fell on his shoulder. “Something’s wrong and I know it. You don’t have to tell me now, but- “

“I’m not telling you _at all_!” Aleks objected, his fingernails sinking into the thick-skinned leather arm of his chair. The recognizable hand was gradually separated from him, and the skin beneath his shirt itched with a need, lacking the sensation of James’ harmonizing, strengthening grip. A shaky sigh erupted from him as his body quaked. “I just- I need to be alone. I’m sorry, dude.”

“I understand.” Without even turning around, Aleks could hear the compulsory smile curl into James’ cheeks, forming dimples, staining his voice with a tinge of false contentment regarding Aleks’ poor excuse of an answer. “If you change your mind, the seats open. Just call me.” If Aleks listened very closely, he could hear a hopeful tone underlying his words. “I’ll see you later, Aleks.”

“Bye, James.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Aleks hands practically vibrated with anticipation as he gripped the steering wheel- he had left it in the parking lot last night so he’d have a ride home the following day, unbeknownst of the fact that he’d be going through such bad withdrawal that even he wasn’t sure if he could drive on his own.

He was somehow able to manage turning the key and maneuvering through the parking lot, nearly hitting Jakob’s car in the process. But he made it out, surprisingly in one piece. The hard part was getting through the traffic of Los Angeles without losing his mind. Honestly, losing his mind in this traffic was an everyday thing for him, but with the vice of the drug in him, it was so much more frustrating.

It crescendoed from a buzzing in his brain, a nuisance, to full-blown lucid screaming. Aleks was having a panic attack by the time he pulled into the driveway. He put his cold hands to his face, feeling the tepidness of his skin. He could hear Mishka barking from the doorway, the birds screeching from up above, the shrubbery rattling like bones in the wind- he rushed to the door, and jostled with his keys, trying to open it. He slammed it behind him, not caring what anyone in his cul-de-sac thought. His knees finally, after the stress of running on the solid concrete, gave out, and his back slid against the wood of the door.

He took a moment, just to breathe and get his bearings. He was shivering under his shirt and jacket. His eyes scanned the entirety of his living room. Mishka was beginning to make her way to him, sensing his distress. She licked his cheeks liberally.

He just held her for a moment, combing his thin fingers through her coat of fur, feeling her warmth. Soon she got bored, and moved back to chewing her bone in her dog bed, leaving Aleks alone again.

Mindlessly, he stood, and made his way to his room. It wasn’t normal for him to leave work early, but in this case- no, it made sense. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t breathe in that warehouse. His muscles were sore, his lungs felt like they blistered underneath his constricting rib cage.

“Fuck.” He gasped to himself, gripping the fabric of his shirt in his clammy hand. He ultimately got to his dresser and- for some reason- he felt happy, and he knew it was wrong, he knew he fucked up, he needed help. He opened the drawer. Is this what James would do? He ignored that thought. He was too mesmerized by the bag; he was so overjoyed it was there, waiting for him. Is this what happiness felt like? Happiness felt… nice.

With little to no thought, he grabbed his belt off the floor and put his arm through it, up to his bicep. Aleks shot up alone in his bedroom, and the world seemed to just dissipate and disappear around him.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Where’s Aleks?” Brett said in-between a mouthful of fries. “I thought he was coming.”

“I think he’s sick- he was really zoned out about something when I tried to talk to him.” James lifted nearly a third of his steak of the plate using his fork, and took a hearty bite out of it. He had decent enough manners to swallow before he spoke again. “He was really irritable, and he looked kinda sick.”

“What do you mean sick? He wouldn’t show up if he was sick.”

“He was just pale and kinda sweaty, but when I asked what was wrong, he just got mad. I figured I’d just leave him alone. Maybe he was hungover.”

“But that doesn’t explain why he didn’t stay at home. Was he warm? Do you think he had a fever?”

“I don’t know- he was wearing his jacket. And I’m not going to risk touching his face to check.”

Brett chuckled lightly, engrossed in the conversation, still holding a fry between his fingers. “You think he’d bite ya?”

“Honestly, a little bit.” James laughed. “But, it’s just so unlike him. I’m kind of worried. Aleks usually isn’t angry after a night out.”

“I know. That’s actually really strange.”

“I think…” James paused for a second, wondering for a moment as to if he should even bring it up. “I think he’s mad at me.”

“What’d you do this time?”

“It’s kinda blurry, but,” James put down the slab of meat on the end of his fork, seemingly uninterested. “I think I left him at the party to go and fuck some chick. I don’t remember her face, but I remember some girl coming up to me, saying she loved my Twitch. And then we were at Denny’s and he just seemed so out of it. But he said he didn’t remember anything when I asked him”

“Maybe you guys go to Denny’s too often.”

“We went to Waffle House the week before, though.”

Brett sighed. He took a sip of his drink- it tasted like the waitress accidentally gave him sprite instead of water. He mentally took note to leave a shitty tip. “Let’s say you actually did have sex with some girl. Why would it bother him? And why wouldn’t he bother telling you he’s upset?”

“I know sometimes he gets anxious about parties, especially ones that Alec recommends to us. They usually end up being littered with druggies. A month ago, some guy tried to offer me cocaine.” James scratched his beard, reminiscing about the stranger in a trench coat. He could still remember the retro glasses he wore and his missing tooth. “I doubt he’d want to be left alone there, and maybe he just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“Alright, that would make sense, I guess. That leads us to the next question. Why did he even show up to work?”

“I think it was just to spite me.”

“I doubt it. Aleks isn’t like that. Either way, you guys need to make up. We have videos to make, and people will notice if you guys act weird around each other.”

An electronic ding went off. Brett scrambled to check his phone, but he had no notifications other than some emails and tweets. He glanced up to see James swiping his thumb against the screen.

“Lindsey texted me.” His eyes widened. “She said Aleks got in his car and drove off. It’s not even the end of the work day yet. I think he’s genuinely sick.”

“Well duh. I’m more concerned about if he made it home or not. If he’s as sick as you say he is, then I’m not sure if he’s in driving condition.”

James shoulders slumped as his brain made the connection. “Can you- I don’t know- go check on him? Go to his house? He should be home by the time you get there. I’ll cover the bill.”

“Thanks, dude. Yeah, I’ll swing by. I’ll update you later.” Brett stood from the booth seat, stealing one more fry from his plate before taking out a dime from the depths of his wallet and setting it on the table. “Here’s her tip.”

“Be careful, drive safe.”

“Do I never _not_ drive safe?”

“Good point.” James smiled at him, returning to the action of stuffing steak in his mouth. The waitress was already beginning to make her way to the booth.

Brett hightailed it out of the restaurant, pushing past the glass door and into the cold Los Angeles evening. He whipped out his phone, making a quick text to Aleks as he unlocked his car and opened the door.

“ **I’m coming over. Make sure your door’s unlocked.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for making it to the end! As usual, a comment, kudos, or bookmark go a long way. They're like drugs for writers. They can also help the story/my writing improve!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aleks is high and really bad at acting; Brett reminisces about Olive Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Welcome back! Sorry this took so long- balancing Valentine's Day and school work is rough. Hope you guys like it though
> 
> NOTICE: Chapters will be extra delayed because I have midterms coming up. Please keep that in mind.

A knock at the door startled Aleks. Surely, he hadn’t invited anyone over, right? He went to seal away the needles from sight, shoving them into the nearby drawer, planting it under a layer of boxers and shutting it tight, as if it made it less conspicuous. His arms swayed back down to his hips, and he could feel the drugs beginning to take effect already- it seemed to work quicker this time, strangely. He withdrew the tourniquet from his upper arm, letting the dam break, letting the substance in. The gravity didn’t feel as strong this time, though; the euphoria didn’t strike him nearly as hard. It was _so close_ to being perfect. He just wanted to reach what he had felt before- that _first hit_. Had he developed a tolerance _already_?

 

The heat that rushed into his body was almost palpable though, almost tangent, like a layer of hot humidity suffocating his skin. He felt the familiar floating feeling in his limbs and torso, like being deep within a swimming pool, breathing in the chlorine. His thoughts swam around in his skull; his conscious melted away.

 

                Another knock rattled the door. It was much louder than before. Too loud for Aleks, at least. It was distracting him, if he were to be honest. He decided he hated the sound, and went to investigate to hopefully shut it up so he could go back to enjoying whatever high he had.

 

                His steps were small and deliberate, and he soon remembered- he was in his _other_ body again: the body he had when he was high felt so different, like he gained a thousand pounds and forgot how to walk, or breathe, or _think_ right. He had to relearn how to control it. He giggled madly to himself as he stumbled over his two bare feet, struggling to make it to the door in his very own house.

 

                _This isn’t something to laugh about, Aleks._

 

                His consciousness was leaking through already. He had definitely built up a tolerance. Maybe after this noise was gone, he could take another hit. _Was that even safe?_

 

                “Aleks? I can hear you. Are you okay?”

 

                Aleks hand touched the cold brass knob, it felt like ice under his fingertips. He immediately thought of the ice pops he ate as a kid, right after moving to America. They never did taste quite as sweet after his mom passed. _What a weird memory to recall._ He twisted the knob gently, waiting for the click of the intricate metal insides. He tried pulling it open, but he felt resistance from it. He was ready to simply kick it down when the voice spoke again.

 

                “Did you… forget the latch? This is your house, right?” A nervous laugh. “You’ve lived here for a while, dude.”

 

                _Of course_. Aleks could be so stupid sometimes. He unlatched the door, trying to not get too fascinated by how it moved on only the two hinges- the scary part was that it actually took _effort_ to not be hypnotized. The door swung open on its own, and Brett walked through the gap, no permission asked or needed. Brett was confused when Aleks made no move to force him out or ask him to leave- all he really got in return was a blank stare.

 

The first thing Brett noticed upon the Russian swinging the door open, was how small his pupils were. He could just barely see them, thanks to the way the light of the evening sun hit his dark irises. They illuminated the rich and profound color of his eyes, and inexplicably, left behind tiny, shadowy pin pricks of pupils. It made a sharp chill run up his spine. He watched closely as Aleks’ eyelids drooped in front of him, before flickering back to life.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Brett pondered between the two of them, speaking as if Aleks was comprehending the words in real time. Just as Aleks began to even give a hint of nodding off, Brett embraced him to give the man some sort of support. “Fuck. You’re sick.”

 

“I’m not, Brett. At least I don’t think I am…” Aleks said into Brett’s shoulder. Brett wasn’t sure if it was a mumble or a slur or something inbetween- it was hard to tell. Aleks hand gripped his bicep, using the leverage to help pull himself back onto his unsteady feet.

 

“Then what’s wrong?”

 

                Aleks mulled the question over in his mind, making sure to hold his lip between his teeth, in case his mouth wanted to speak on its own. It was honestly quite the struggle, he really just wanted to be truthful, but he knew that wasn’t an option. Not anymore, at least. He realized he was already too far gone, probably. Telling Brett he was sick wasn’t an option- he would’ve skipped work and he knows it.

 

                “I just think I drank too much.”  


                “You were drinking?” Brett pulled out his phone, turning the screen on and checking the time. “It’s like 6 p.m. on a Monday night.”

 

                “My day was pretty rough.” Aleks smirked at his own statement- _Brett had no idea the extent of it_.

 

                “You left work less than two hours ago- how are you this drunk already?” Brett began to step inside, but Aleks arm blocked his path of entrance, knuckles stark white against the door frame. “What the hell is wrong, Aleks.” It was less of a question than a statement. Aleks high was already beginning to wane. It was about time to end this annoyance.

 

                “Can we talk about this later? I feel sick.” His voice was noticeably flat and emotionless, and very unconvincing. His eyes looked vacant, yet held a somewhat steady gaze on him.

 

                “No, you’re-“ Before Brett could finish, Aleks made the move to slam the door in his face. Brett jammed his elbow in first, successfully stopping Aleks’ escape within his dwelling. The door smashed against his forearm and he winced in pain, hissing out a few profanities before shoving past the shell-shocked man, and into his living room. Mishka almost bit him before realizing who he was, choosing instead to bark at the obtrusive commotion. Aleks clutched his ears at the aggravating sound.

 

                “You _just_ said you weren’t sick, and I know you’re not much of a lightweight Aleks. You’re not normally like this.” Brett huffed. “Whatever you were drinking, it wouldn’t have made you this bad. You know for a fact that you can talk to me about this.”

 

                The crunch of drywall startled everyone.

 

                “Fucking _leave_ , Brett!” Aleks stumbled heavily, yanking his fist out from the wall, the white powder and chips crumbling to the ground and onto his bare feet. His eyes blurred before focusing on the abyss of a hole he made in the drywall. His knuckles were shades of pink and red already; one knuckle split open slightly and oozed into a tiny pool of blood between his tightly clasped fingers. “Just…” His knees began to fall out under him, so he clung to the wall with his sweaty palms, hoping to keep himself stable. “ _Please leave_.”

 

                It was silent, all but for the two men’s heavy breathing, but Aleks could hear the violent buzzing in his head. Aleks could hear his own blood rushing through his skull, he could hear the quiet in the air, and it wasn’t long before he could feel the pressure of being held against Brett’s chest. Truthfully, it wasn’t romantic or sexual in any capacity, it felt brotherly, maybe even fatherly.

 

                “I only know there’s something wrong because you’re crying.” Brett laughed somberly, and Aleks could hear it though his ribs. “When was the last time you cried like this? I can’t even remember.”

 

                Aleks didn’t speak, he just clung close to his chest, grabbing at his jacket.

 

                “It’s gonna be okay. Whatever’s happening, it’s gonna be okay.”

 

                “But it _won’t_.” He heaved a guttural sob out, resolution breaking and cracking into pieces. He could almost physically feel the last of the drugs dissipate from him. His limbs no longer felt quite so heavy, his heart no longer pounded against his ribs, and the voice in his head telling him what to do was gone. He was absolutely alone inside his brain; _it terrified him_. “ _I can’t do this anymore_.” He whispered against his chest. The pain of striking the wall finally broke through to him, and he winced in pain. He raised his shaky hand up, peering at the damage he had done. He was so _furious_ with himself, but he knew he wanted to do it all over again. He was beginning to understand how fucked he truly was.

 

                “What can’t you do?” Brett asked, also examining Aleks’ knuckles with a gentle, paternal touch. He assumed it didn’t need any stitches since it didn’t look very deep at all, however, he could also see the dark scabbing on his pointer finger, and turned his hand over to get a better look at it: It appeared to be a day or so old, and it was fairly deep and unprotected against the bacteria in the air. He sighed, and turned towards the bathroom.

 

                “W-what are you doing?” Aleks stuttered. His cheeks were still wet with tears.

 

                “Grabbing a first-aid kit. It needs bandaged.”

 

                “Brett, I’m fine, I can just…” He stared at it, hands still shaking. “I can just wash it off.”

 

                “You’re bleeding and crying- you’re the _furthest_ _thing_ from fine.”

 

                He marched to the bathroom despite Aleks’ weak protests. He had been here many times before, and had no problems finding it. He scanned the room carefully, looking for anything suspicious or out of place. Aleks was acting particularly weird, and he aimed to figure out what it was exactly that has been bothering him- maybe he’s become seriously sick? _Maybe he’s picked up some drug, like James said_. He opened the cabinet under the sink, squatting to get a good view; nothing but soap and cleaning supplies in there, unsurprisingly. Above the toilet there was nothing but a few cans of shaving cream and a declining supply of toilet paper. Nothing in the bathroom was off-putting, he could say, but he knew in his heart something was wrong. He gave up on the bathroom, seized the first-aid kit, and made his way back into the living room.

 

                Aleks held his hands together in what looked almost like a prayer, his thumbs up against his forehead, his fingers intertwined. He was sweating and shaking, a layer of cold perspiration coating his paling skin. His muscles were beginning to ache again, and it hurt to move even slightly.

 

                He jumped when Brett gripped his hand and pulled it towards him, but Brett didn’t seem to mind. Brett noted how his skin was beginning to become cool- moments ago his hand was _warm_. He didn’t understand the phenomenon and didn’t ask. He did a messy job of bandaging the swollen and bleeding parts of his hand, careful not to pull the gauze too hard as to cut off circulation. Brett wasn’t a nurse- not even close.

 

                “You have to tell me what’s wrong, Aleks.”

 

                Aleks swallowed, feeling the thickness in his throat disappear momentarily before it came back. He shook his head weakly, feeling his eyes droop subconsciously.

 

                Brett hummed. “I guess I’ll get you to bed for now.” He paused and swallowed. “C’mon.”

 

                With one arm over Brett’s shoulder, Aleks stumbled feebly over to his bedroom, putting most of his weight into the other man and let himself be transferred. Brett, with his free arm, flipped over the covers, and Aleks crawled his way between the sheets and his thick blanket.

 

                “What smells in here?”

 

                Aleks motioned with a single finger over to the other side of his bed, where his cold vomit from earlier still lay.

 

                “Oh.” Brett held his breath, trying not to breathe in the pungent smell. “I’ll get it, just this once though.” He complied. He honestly felt bad for him, not that he’d admit it. He still wasn’t sure what had Aleks so messed up.

 

                Aleks muttered a weak thanks, before his head fell against the pillow. It only took moments for his breathing to slow, and for Mishka to solemnly join him on the bed, nudging her head against his limp hand.

 

                Brett began work on the puddle near his bed, soaking up the vomit with fast food napkins before wiping the whole thing down with some antibacterial spray and putting away the supplies back under Aleks’ sink. His eyes caught the sleeping figure shift in his sleep, and he watched his chest move up and down, lips parted in an inaudible snore. Whatever was happening, _at least he was alive_. He smiled fondly at the unconscious man.

 

                He thought back to his first time meeting him in real life- shaking his hand, going out to lunch with him (He will always remember the time he dared Aleks to ask for cheese in his drink at Olive Garden and they _actually did it_ ). Aleks was the first person he met from Cow Chop. He knew he wouldn’t have this life if it wasn’t for him. Brett, as stubborn as he was, refused to confess any of that. It was just something he had to keep in his heart.

 

                He sat down on the couch in front of Aleks’ TV, regretting the fact that he didn’t bring any sort of overnight bag or even a change of clothes. He turned on his Switch, taking his time to find a game in Aleks’ prolific library. As the title screen loaded, he wondered how he ended up here, cleaning up vomit and searching through another man’s bathroom. _James_. He had forgotten already.

 

                Brett began a new text to James.

 

                **He seems okay, I’ll be over here for the night to watch him though**

Only a few second later, James shot back:

 

                **So he made it home safe?**

**Yeah, he did.**

**I have a favor to ask.**

**And what’s that?**

**Can you make sure he’s not sick? I’m worried, really**

**Of course.**

**One more thing**

**?**

**Thank you, Brett**

**Anytime**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Remember to comment and leave a kudos, it only takes a moment and it means the world to me!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Make sure to leave a comment. I love criticism.


End file.
